Bob and his twin sister Joan were born November 26, 1939, and grew up in Crystal City Missouri. When Bob was 18 months old he had spinal meningitis. His mother was given no hope that he would live, and when he decided to live anyway, the doctors warned that he would never be anything more than a vegetable. When he became conscious, they said OK, but he will never walk. Well, Bob had other ideas, and by the time he was 10, he was able to run and play as well as other children his age.

Bob 1969

Bob with dogs, 1990's

Bob hunting at MO farm 1970's

Bob & Duke in Alaska 2003

Bob & Joan on their 66th Birthday, 2005

Bob & Caryl Thanksgiving 2005

Bob on Dutchess 1990's

While he was a young boy, Bob fondly remembered many quail hunting trips with his dad, his Uncle Logan, and their English pointers. These early experiences in the woods colored and enriched the rest of his life. Bob worked his way through the University of Missouri and got a degree in Forestry. He wanted to explore the world, so during a short tour in the Army he often hitched rides on transport planes to spend a few days in exotic locations in Africa and Asia.

In 1962, Bob joined the Peace Corp. and went to Brazil for two years. In Brazil he ran an isolated research station in the Amazon jungle, miles up a tributary to the Amazon River. When food didn't arrive at the research station, he and the 100 people he was leading were starving. After all the ammunition was spent, doing subsistence hunting for food, Bob brewed gunpowder out of fertilizer, loaded it into a muzzle loader with chopped up nails, and went out hunting, knowing this was his last chance for food. In a small clearing in the jungle he spotted a jaguar that was crouched and ready to have him for lunch. He shot the muzzle loader as big cat sprang at him, and the jaguar kept the whole group alive until help arrived.

I met Bob in 1969, shortly after I started flying for United Airlines. Bob had recently completed a masters degree at Purdue University, and he was working for IBM in Chicago. We were fixed up on a blind date by our mutual friend Peter Kasdin. On our first date, Bob began telling me about his adventures in the Amazon, and I knew he was someone really special. A week later he took me to the Rembrandt exhibit at the Chicago Art Institute, and the next week to a show at the botanic garden and began to fall in love with him. Over the next year I discovered that he had a whole set of hobbies I had never been exposed to. He bought me boots and outdoor gear, and took me camping at the old family farm where his cousin Wayne lived. On Christmas of 1970 he and his Uncle Logan took me bird hunting for the first time, and I began to understand his love of nature and the outdoors. Over the next year I discovered that we both loved to travel and that we could enjoy our common interests together……. and that we could both give each other the freedom to enjoy other interests that we didn't share.

On Christmas of 1971 I surprised Bob with a Brittany puppy……….our faithful old dog Tina whose line continues today in his beloved Jill.

After Bob and I were married in 1972 we bought our first farm near St. Genevieve Missouri, and two years later a different farm in Owensville Missouri. We fixed up the old homesteaders cabin on the Missouri farm, and enjoyed many weekends there, hiking through the woods with the dogs and living like pioneers in the cabin. Many of these weekends were shared with my nieces and nephews, and with Bob's lifelong best friend Ken Richmond. In the evening we would sit down to a dinner cooked on a wood stove, and by the light of an oil lamp, Bob would regale us with stories of his many adventures. Bob was a master story teller, and even after hearing some of his stories fifty times they still made me laugh. Shortly after buying the farm Bob bought our first horses, and we enjoyed many long rides through the woods on Bonnie and Jessie. Bob has never been without horses since then.

In 1978 we decided to move further out in the country to accommodate our expanding family of dogs. We bought an 1879 farmhouse in Oswego Illinois and Bob brought the horses home from Missouri so he could ride as often as he liked. Bob's menagerie eventually expanded to as many as seven dogs, four horses, fifteen goats, flocks of ducks and geese, and 150 rabbits. Dr. Doolittle………move over.

Right up to his last day at our Kuttawa farm, Bob went out every day to talk to his horses and they came running to him like dogs. He loved to tell me about the big slobbery kisses that gave him.

At 10pm on September 25, 1995 I got a call from the emergency room in Hinsdale Illinois telling me that Bob has been in an accident. When I arrived at the hospital Bob was completely paralyzed on one side and barely able to complete a sentence. At one in the morning, in the neural intensive care unit of the hospital, the doctor explained to me that this was the worst possible kind of stroke, and that short of a miracle; Bob would never walk or speak again. Miracles do happen, he said, but the odds are longer than shorter. I was as scared as I have ever been in my life. I heard Bob mumble and went over to his bed to hear what he was trying to say. In his most irritated voice, Bob said…."well then we'll just go someplace where they give us better odds". By the next morning Bob was sitting up in a chair, and after five days he walked out of the hospital without a cane. Six weeks later he was able to get back on his horse, and he always credited his horse-back riding for the miraculous recovery he made.

Several years later, we met our good friend Michael Giannini, who loves the horses almost as much as Bob. Michael introduced Bob to Blazing Prairie Stars, a horse therapy Stable where children with brain injuries and developmental problems are given physical therapy on horseback. Bob volunteered at the stable for several years, and I think one of the things that gave him the most pride and joy in his whole life was watching those children make miraculous recoveries from brain injuries, just as he himself had done twice in his own life.

I know it would please Bob immensely to know that Michael Gianini will be adopting his two beloved horses.

By 2004, both Bob and I were retired and ready for a new chapter in our lives. Bob's dream was to live way out in the country as far from other people as possible, and my dream was to build a studio where quilters could come to take extended workshops. Moving to Kentucky made it possible for both of us to have our lifelong dreams and still spend as much time together as we did when we were both working. At the farm in Kuttawa, Bob had everything he dreamed of, forest and wetlands, croplands and pastures, and plenty of room for the dogs and horses he loved so much. He was also surrounded by some of the finest neighbors anyone could have. When we found Bob on Monday, December 18, they all showed up to lend a hand, and I am very grateful for all the help they have given to both Bob and me.

Many of you met Bob recently as his legs were gradually slowing him down and limiting his abilities. I can't begin to give you a complete picture of Bob's life in a few short paragraphs, but I want you to know that he was a man with an amazing zest for life, who could fill an entire room with his energy and enthusiasm. It was my privilege to be his life partner for 34 years.

Bob with deerskin jacket 1990's	Bob & Caryl 1975	Cowboy Bob 1990's
Bob with deer 1970's	Bob at MO farm 1970's	Bob with Puppy 1980's
Bob & Caryl on Dad's Bryer's 103rd birthday	Bob& Horses at Missouri farm 1970's	Bob & Caryl 1996
Brazil 1960's	Farmer Bob	Bob giving "pony ride"
Bob at MO farm 1970's	Bob & Traveler 2003	Bob & Caryl's wedding 1972
Bob in Lisle, 1969	Bob with fish 1990's	Bob riding at Kuttawa farm, 2005

Obituary- Bob Fallert

Robert Anton Fallert III.
Born: Barnes Hospital, St.Louis MO. November 26, 1939 to Jenny Mayfield Fallert and Robert Anton Fallert II.
Departed: Kuttawa, KY, December 17, 2006, age 67
Preceded in death by his parents and his sister Janet Fallert Turley
Survived by his wife of 34 years, Caryl Bryer Fallert, and twin sister, Joan Fallert Turley,
Brother-in-law Wayne Turley, nieces, Beth Turley Gloeckner, and Tracey Turley Brokaw, and nephew Wayne Turley II.

Bob grew up in Crystal City Missouri and attended Sacred Heart Grade School and Crystal City High School. He attended the University of Missouri, graduating with a B.S. in Forestry in 1961. Following graduation he worked for the Missouri Forestry department, served in the US Army, and worked as a Peace Corp Volunteer for 2 years in Brazil. He earned an MBA from Purdue University in 1967.
After earning his MBA, Bob moved to the Chicago area and worked as a marketing manager for several computer companies. Eventually he left the computer business and became a market manager for a paper company.

Bob married Caryl Bryer in August of 1972. They lived for 6 years in Lisle Illinois and then for 27 years in Oswego, Illinois before moving to Kuttawa Kentucky in 2005.

Bob retired in 1995. After retirement he volunteered at a Horse Therapy Stable for brain damaged children. He also enjoyed spending time in the out of doors with his dogs and horses.

Bob was an avid outdoorsman and diligent manager of the resources under his care. He owned two 400+ acre farms and his happiest hours were spent with his hunting friends in the forests of Missouri and Kentucky.

Bob died instantly of a massive brain hemorage on Sunday, December 17, 2006.

As a young child I was very fortunate to have an uncle like Uncle Bob. I always thought very highly of him and looked up to him in many ways. Growing up, Uncle Bob and Aunt Caryl were the only closely related family members who lived away from St. Louis. Although that meant infrequent visits, it did mean that we made the most of our time together. I always remember thinking Uncle Bob lived very dangerously. He invited my dad and I to go fishing with him and some friends in Alaska more than once, but I was always fearful of being eaten by bears. As I grew older, I began to realize trips like the Alaska trip weren't about fearing bars, and they weren't about fishing necessarily. They were about creating memories which each person on the trip would be able to share with one another for the rest of their lives. Fortunately, I got to hear many stories by Uncle Bob from not only Alaska, but also the Army and Peace Corp all of which I am very grateful. Even though Uncle Bob is now gone, I'm still learning things Uncle Bob accomplished, some of the adversity he faced, and things he learned throughout his life and I look forward to telling my own children about his adventures one day.

I credit my father as the first person to get me interested and involved in hunting and the outdoors. His first love was and still is quail hunting and as luck would have it Uncle Bob also enjoyed quail hunting very much. When I was young, dad and I would go out to Owensville, MO and meet Uncle Bob for quail hunting trips. At that point in my life, I was always more excited about going to the cabin and climbing up and down the ladder than actually hunting. I remember countless days of watching Uncle Bob's Brittany's Heather, Annie, and eventually Jennifer, work with my dad's own dog Annie. During my childhood, many quail were killed at the Owensville farm and my Uncle's involvement in quail hunting helped me become a safer and more accurate hunter with a shotgun. And I'll never forget the times Uncle Bob rescued me from being caught in briar patches as we hunted. As the years passed, Uncle Bob allowed dad and I to quail hunt on the ground at Owensville if he wasn't there. If it were cold, we'd always look at the log stove that Uncle Bob had prepared using newspaper and kindling for the next time he arrived, but we'd never actually light a fire. We knew that when it came time for us to prepare the log stove for Uncle Bob that it wouldn't meet his standards so we'd always use extra sleeping bags.

When I was about eight years old I embarked on my first turkey hunting experience in Owensville. I vividly remember sitting by several trees near Uncle Bob and listening to him try to lure in a big gobbler. Eventually he lured his gobbler, took his shot, and eventually I was the one who found the turkey Uncle Bob killed. Uncle Bob even let me carry the turkey back to the cabin, which thrilled me. Looking back, Uncle Bob taught me another valuable lesson. The lesson: I will have to remember to use the "Would you like to carry the turkey back to the cabin?" trick when I have a family some day.

About that same time my parents had just bought a blue four-wheeler which dad started to bring to the farm when we would meet for hunting trips. At that point in time, Uncle Bob was less than happy with the machine being there. Uncle Bob would've preferred seeing us drag deer by hand rather than use any kind of machine other than a tractor on that farm.

Years later, I had become hooked on deer hunting. Unfortunately, I was scared of heights at that time in my life so dad and I always hunted together on the ground. Some of my most treasured memories of the Owensville farm are sitting side by side with my dad watching deer feed in fields. Unluckily at that time I was not ready to kill my first deer.

When I was still in high school Uncle Bob bought a bottle of "White Lady" wine, which he instructed the hunters was only to be drank when I killed my first deer. He decided to build a tree stand, surrounded with cedar tree limbs to protect me from falling and much lower to the ground than the other tree stands on the farm. He had scouted the area and deemed it "perfect" for me to kill my first deer. He even referred to it as "Wayne's tree stand. Alas, I had yet to learn the concept of patience when hunting from a deer stand which caused the "White Lady" to age.

A job with my dad at a factory cured my fear of heights and moved me one step closer to being a real deer hunter. Uncle Bob always gave his advice on which stand for me to take opening morning, but there was yet another flaw in my hunting skills. Accuracy. Once again, the "White Lady" aged while Uncle Bob's desire for me to kill my first deer grew more intense. As the "White Lady" continued to age, Uncle Bob was killing deer after deer, year after year. As the years passed, the blue four-wheeler that was once considered a nuisance of a machine now had a name. The "blue mule" had been accepted as Uncle Bob and the rest of the hunters were becoming older and growing tired of dragging deer sometimes over a mile by hand.

Finally, in the fall of 1999, the wait was over. I killed my first deer on opening morning. Unfortunately, after all the years of waiting, Uncle Bob was not there as he was drawn for a special hunt in Montana, which was a new adventure for him to enjoy. Every time I look at the pictures of the hunters who were at the cabin that year, I've always felt the picture isn't complete since Uncle Bob spent all those years waiting and teaching. That evening, the "White Lady" was finally consumed, and toasts to my first deer, and of course Uncle Bob were made. I still have the empty "White Lady" bottle today.

When Uncle Bob decided to sell the farm in Owensville, I felt I had lost a part of my childhood. Shortly before the property was sold, I went out to the farm to spend one last night just so I could look at the pictures, remember the childhood stories, think of the business advice, and take in the beauty of the place that I had become so familiar with growing up over the years. The time I was able to spend with Uncle Bob on the Owensville farm is priceless to me.

Of course the Owensville property gave way to the future in which another beautiful piece of land was purchased. Because of Uncle Bob, I have been fortunate enough to gain more knowledge, spend more times with beloved friends, and experience outdoor life on the current farm in Kentucky.

Barely over a month ago, several of us gathered in Kentucky for almost a week. It was painfully obvious that Uncle Bob's health had deteriorated significantly over the past year. Needless to say, he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he having a hard time moving around and keeping up with the rest of us nor did he want any help we offered. Before we left, each of us spent time with Uncle Bob convincing him to see a Dr. to revive his body and mind. Uncle Bob started that process and began investigating the proper channels to cure his various aches and pains as evidenced by the recent literature we've found. Perhaps it was only my imagination, but when I saw Uncle Bob during Thanksgiving, I saw a man who was improved over the man I had hunted with only a few weeks before. Unfortunately for us here, the lord had other plans for Uncle Bob.

Aunt Caryl, who has proved what a remarkably strong person she is during this sad time, was gracious enough to allow me one of Uncle Bob's guns. I chose a .54 caliber Hawken muzzleloader that he hand made several years ago. I chose that gun for four reasons. First, it is an absolutely beautiful gun in every way imaginable. Second, I remember seeing more than a few pictures of deer killed by Uncle Bob with that muzzleloader and how much that gun enriched the pictures. Third, it is a gun that I will take enormous pleasure in telling my friends, family, and hopefully children about when and how it was made and of course the person who made it. Fourth, and most importantly, it is a gun that I will always be able to look at and immediately think of Uncle Bob.

Through the years, Uncle Bob has introduced me to his closest hunting buddies. These introductions have now allowed me to call each of the hunting buddies, friends. Uncle Bob wanted people who enjoyed the outdoors as he did to become friends and share their stories and knowledge. He knew it made each outdoorsman a better person from his knowledge. I wish I could remember the last year Uncle Bob, my dad, Ken, James, Tom, and Duke all deer hunted together, but I know it's been more than a few years. If I could wish one thing for a deer hunting trip next year it would be that Duke, James, Ken, Tom, myself, and of course my father would be able to all hunt together and reminisce and share stories about uncle Bob. We could even write the stories down, just as he did throughout the years so that when we all left camp, not only would we be able remember the years hunt anytime we so chose, but we would all possess more knowledge and could share with others of the happy, adventurous, loved, challenged, determined, full life Uncle Bob enjoyed and lived.

Wayne Turley II